


smile

by ere_the_sun_rises (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Interlude, Kid Fic, Non-Explicit Sex, PTSD, Pre-Avengers (2012), Smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ere_the_sun_rises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Angie has only one nephew, and Angie's nephew only has one aunt; and they both manage to get Steve to smile again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smile

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where it's due: to the creators and the originals.

             _Date: 4-30-2012_

_Days since returned to 21 st century CE: 44_

_Days since Steve smiled: 44_

            Angie sighed, looking at the little log that lay open on her desk. The apartment that SHIELD had set them up with was small, but sunny and well-maintained. They had given her the option; a place at the agency, other engagements- she’d refused them. Steve had barely spoken since the first day they had woken up- when he had escaped the facility and run straight out into the blazing brightness of the lights on Broadway. “I had a date,” he’d told the director of the agency; a man in an eyepatch and a trench coat named Fury. Since then, almost nothing.

            Angie folded her hands with a quiet sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand his position: she’d, after all, spent three years of her life fighting in the war her grandfathers used to tell her about. She missed the friends and fellows of that age as well, but in the end it wasn’t hers. Being frozen, then consequently thawed: for her, that was coming home. To him, it was just what she had felt landing in 1943. Alien, far away, confusing. She could hear him when he had the nightmares. She had her own, of course, but if he knew he didn’t let on. He stayed in the apartment most days; sometimes he went out to walk. To try, she knew, to observe the strange new place he’d been dropped rather unceremoniously into.

            She tapped her pencil on the paper of her little journal- a retained habit from the forties, that she preferred to keep track of things on paper. He was a creature of habit, her Steve. Germany was far away for him; she spent every hour of the day dreaming about exploring the far ends of the galaxy. That was simple psychology 101: Steve wanted a white picket fence, an apple pie wife and children with huge smiles. Probably a dog too, now that she thought about it. A golden retriever. Or a beagle. Something like that. She sighed, braced her chin on her hand. He’d been a little (not really little) ball of mopey since the un-freezing. They’d been asleep for seventy years, and after seeing how overwhelmed he was: how lost he looked, hopeless; she couldn’t join SHIELD. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter if Dean was there too… Steve needed her. There was no way around it.

            She tapped the paper again; chewed on the end of her pencil before setting the graphite to the paper.

            _Days until I turn 31: 107_

_Days until Steve turns 27: 65_

_Days Jenny has been married: 1461_

_Days Jenny has been a mother: 1094_

            Angie set the pencil down. Perhaps one of the sweetest parts of their recent emergence into the world had been finding out, on her part, where Dean, Jenny, and Luca had gone. So far she’d only seen the former two, but SHIELD had tabs on her younger little brother, said he was out in India with some Dr. Banner. Dean was working for the agency now as a field agent, and Jenny was married to the personal bodyguard of the owner of Stark Industries; Howard’s son; known to the public as Iron Man, playboy robot-suit extraordinaire. She’d seen the videos. It was certainly a gorgeous piece of machinery. As for Jenny’s husband (Happy Hogan; her new brother-in-law, which was odd enough on its own), on the other hand, was a lovely person. Angie couldn’t have asked for someone better to be her baby sister’s partner for life. Their son Benjamin was a precious boy; he had been quite excited to meet his Aunt Angie and show her the pictures he’d drawn (he was currently in the dinosaur phase; said Happy, and probably a few months out from the trains stage.) Tomorrow was the kid’s fourth birthday. Maybe she should get Steve to come; she mused. There was little like a cute, precocious kid to lift someone’s spirits. Maybe she could get him a model, or something. “Hey, Steve,” she called, as her enhanced hearing picked up his quiet shuffle into the kitchen/living area. “It’s my nephew’s birthday tomorrow. I’m gonna get him a dinosaur, want to come?”

            “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” he questioned, with a deeper-than-usual frown.

            “Relax, Spangles, it’s only a model,” she went and shrugged into her jacket, fishing for her subway pass in its pockets. “We haven’t unlocked the secrets of _Jurassic Park.”_ She shot him an ominous look. “Yet.”

            Steve sighed. “You go ahead, Ange. I’ll be fine.”

            “All right,” she sighed back. ‘But listen, tomorrow my favorite nephew is turning four, which is a big huge deal for him, and I’m going on the very important person invite addressed to ‘favorite aunt’…” she waved the crayon certificate, having retrieved it and the erstwhile subway pass.

            “Isn’t he your only nephew?” asked Steve, frowning again.

            “…and you,” she continued, ignoring him, “will be going as my plus-one. Do you know what kind of talk there’ll be if the favorite aunt shows up without a date? Chaos. Chaos and discord, that’s what. Iron your shirt.” She opened the door, then paused. “Actually, don’t do the button-up shirt thing, then he’ll think you’re actually my boyfriend. T-shirt and jeans, you hear me? Summer kid’s party in the backyard.”

            Steve blinked, rubbing the back of his neck, still frowning. “Aren’t you his only aunt?”

            “For the love of God, don’t comb your hair,” she said, and shut the door.

* * *

 

            “Why are you really bringing me here?” Steve questioned the next day, as they got off at their stop. “You’re pretty. If you really wanted a date you could go find one.”

            “Steve, how long has it been since you felt even the slightest bit happy?” Angie sighed at him, over her shoulder. “I’m exposing you to secondhand happiness.”

            Steve halted her with a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face him, raising her eyebrows. “What?”

            “I don’t need your-”

            “Don’t say you don’t need my help,” she cut him off, jabbing a finger into the middle of his chest. “You don’t rate that. Not when you won’t help yourself. Cause if you’re not gonna, who will?” she stepped back, sighed again. “Look, I miss everyone too, but I sort of understand this whole wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey… thing. You’ve got to stop lumping around, and feeling sorry for yourself. This is your second chance at life and I’m not going to watch you blow it grieving for the last one.” She glared for a moment, then turned on her heel and began on their way again. “Come on.”

            She found the apartment in a classy neighborhood not far from the almost-complete Stark Tower. “Jenny’s got to be the best-paid secretary I’ve ever seen,” Angie mused, inside the glimmering elevator. “I’m halfway through an astrophysics doctorate, and I’ve got SHIELD bailing me out ‘cause I live with you.” She looked at Steve. “Wonders never cease, huh?”

            “Hm?” Steve turned to her very suddenly.

            Angie shrugged. “Well. Something my brother used to say… nature’s a ‘she’ cause she’ll change in an instant. And time, well, he’s a constant, stubborn sonofabitch.” She shook her head. “Awful philosophical, that one, for a bartender.”

            “There’s so much in this world,” Steve said next to her, soft, head bowed and hands shoved into his pockets. “I don’t know where to start.”

            Angie regarded him, silent. Finally, she spoke. “None of us really understand the world either, Spangles. Don’t get wound up over it.”

            The elevator dinged. She stepped out, wrapped box in hand, Steve in tow. “Don’t step on any kids, Leviathan,” she said, and then she opened the door.

            Jenny met them in the entrance hall. “Angie, he’ll be so happy to see you. He’s been dying to try out the chemistry set that came from India a few weeks ago, and you’re one of the only people I can trust with my son and chemicals.” She sighed, gathering up stray blonde hairs and leading them into the kitchen, where Happy was fiddling with cake frosting. “Hello, bro-in-law,” called Angie, examining said cake and allowing Jenny to take the brightly-wrapped package from her to set on the table with the others.

            “This is…?” Jenny returned a moment later, eyeballing Steve in his SSR shirt and leather jacket. Steve offered a friendly smile and Jenny grinned goofily back (he had that effect on people; but if anyone had as endearing a smile as Steve, it was probably Jenny, with similar blonde hair and big blue eyes).

            “Steve,” said Angie. “Roommate. I’m trying to get him out of the house. Not from around here, still adjusting to the new surroundings.” She flashed her most charismatic smile, hoped for no questions, and breathed an internal sigh of relief when none came. “Now, chemistry sets in India? Luca’s there, that’s right, with that Banner guy.” She turned around, raising her eyebrows at Steve as she began to follow Jenny to the terrace. He nodded at her, made a shooing gesture and turned to talk to Happy. “Dean gonna show up today?”

            “He’s dropping by for a goodbye later,” she replied, checking her watch. “After that he’s shipping out to some classified base in the midwest. You know, just another day on the job.” She sighed.

            Angie shrugged. “Sounds like he finally found his calling. I gotta say, I never would have guessed spec ops, but it makes sense the more you think about it. He’s a smart guy. He’s got agent chops.”

            “Yeah, I just wish he didn’t have such a dangerous job.”

            “Dangerous like fighting an epidemic in the slums of Kolkata?” Angie quipped, elbowing Jenny. “Face it, sis, they’re doing what they love. Just so happens to be a blue collar sort of gig, but they know how to handle themselves.”

            Jenny looked up at her, suddenly the scared baby sister with the watery blue eyes. “And if something happens to them…?”

            Angie patted her shoulder, hooking her arm over her. “Then we won’t- and by that I mean we most certainly will- say we told them so.”

            They emerged onto the terrace, where Angie picked out Ben among the crowd of boys, running in a pack and shrieking gleefully. She watched one of the boys proclaim that he was It, and the others scattered as he gave chase.

            “So, anyway. Chemicals?” Angie sat on the bench as her sister began to set out food. “What about your boss? He’s supposedly buddies with the hubby. Science guy, couldn’t he help you with that?”

            “Tony’s kind of a busy guy,” Jenny said, “Plus, anything other than robotics engineering is a little sketchy. Tends to…blow up. Around him. Cooking. Relationships. People.”

            Angie frowned. “Hm.” She reclined against the picnic table, tossing one leg over the other, bracing her elbows on the edge of the table.

            Jenny turned to look at her. “That’s a thinking ‘hm.’ What’s cooking?”

            “Nothing,” she confessed, “Just…I knew his father; during my little sojourn into the forties. Kind of guy you constantly wanted to punch in the face, but brilliant.” Herfingers rubbed unconsciously at the site of the needle that had pumped the serum into her bloodstream. “Saved my life, actually. I would have died of blood less in the Rhine river valley if he hadn’t performed a transfusion.” Her head swam; sixty-seven years ago felt like a mere few months.

            She shook out her thoughts. “I still owe a debt to him.” She sat back, crossed her arms, lapsed into silence. “Or whatever’s left of him.”

            “Angie…” Jenny sat down by her. “Something happened to you. Something’s not the same.”

            “I fought the second world war, Jenny,” Angie said, lowly. “I killed people. Nazis, Italians, Japs, what have you. Saw guys die crying for their mothers, choking on their own blood. I liberated Buchenwald.” She blinked, the images of the stacked bodies, the sea of wedding bands, the ovens lined up wall-to-wall, the walking skeletons with the hollow eyes swimming in her field of vision. A happy shriek broke into her trance, and she watched the boys scrambling up trees. “I’ve seen how low people can go. What they’ll do to cover their tracks. ‘Just following orders.’ I snapped that guy’s neck with my bare hands. Just grabbed it and spun his head around backwards. That crunch was fucking music to my ears.” She shook her head, hunching forward, hands wringing slowly.

            Jenny was quiet for a long moment. “Not just that,” she said, finally. “You’re…” her hands swam before her. “…taller.” She shrugged. “Why?”

            Angie was silent. “It’s classified,” she said, finally.

            Jenny sighed, getting to her feet, muttering: “Of course. It’s always classified.” She headed for the door, where Happy and Steve were emerging. Angie had only a moment to watch her go, before she was suddenly being tackled by an excited four-year-old. “Aunt Angie!”

            “Hey, Durham!” she grinned, returning the vice-like squeeze her nephew afforded her and ruffling honey-colored hair. “Lemme see your guns.” Ben flexed with a lion-like growl, and she nodded approvingly. “You’ll have me beat by the time you’re five.”

            He grinned at her, and then he looked to see Steve arriving on the scene. “Who’s he?”

            “Steve,” said Angie, smiling as he held out his hand to shake.

            Ben eyed it like a befuddling animal. “Are you her boyfriend?” he asked.

            Angie stopped and sighed gustily, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “No one can fault me for trying.” And then, suddenly, like the sun bursting through the clouds, Steve grinned. “No,” he told the boy, “we’re just friends. We share an apartment.”

            Ben scowled an impressive four-year-old scowl. “Good. Aunt Angie is going to marry an astronaut.”

            “Egh, I don’t know about those sailor types,” she began, “and the test-pilots, man, always flying by the seat of their pants…” but the general chow bell brought all children scrambling to the picnic table. Angie shook her head, smiling, looking then to Steve. The faint smile was still there, and after a moment she decided it couldn’t be a trick of the sun that some fraction of the light was back in his eyes.

* * *

 

            Dean showed perhaps forty-five minutes later- he mingled appropriately and fell back to speak lowly with Angie.

            “Security clearance on this one?” she asked. “I live with Captain America, I think that makes me an C4?”

            “It’s in New Mexico,” he replied. “Near Puente Antiguo. Project PEGASUS. That cube the Red Skull had on him? Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean, looking for you and Rogers. Coulson’s on detail as well.”

            “Your boyfriend Coulson?” she prodded, smirking.

            “Ours is a strictly professional relationship,” Dean replied, but he was blushing.

            “Because _I_ look like that when I talk about the exact technique with which Spangles _breathes_.” Angie rolled her eyes. “Geeze, kiddo, grow a quad and ask the man to coffee. Get him dinner. Confess your undying love in the heat of battle.” She clapped him on the back. “You’ve had a four-year crush according to Jenny, and so far you haven’t died of unfulfillment. Obviously you’re meant to do something about it, if you’re not even halfheartedly checking out my hunky roommate over there.” Dean looked, and sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t bother, I’d say, he’s straight as an arrow, but you don’t even look interested in the slightest.” She elbowed him. “Hey, look here. You’ve got it so bad I can _smell_ it on you.”

            “That the serum?” he quipped. She snorted, then shook her head. “I wish it was. Better yet, I wish I could be honest with everyone.” She sighed. “She knows something’s up, but I can’t say anything. She’s not too happy. She worries, you know.”

            Dean was quiet for a long moment. “We all do.”

            “What about?”

            “Classified. Can’t tell you.”

            Angie sighed, mock-disgusted. “Jerk.”

            “Bitch.”

            They both snorted, and he pulled her into a hug. “I gotta tap out, Angles. Hold down the fort.”

            “Can do, Sarge,” she replied, and without another word he was off.

* * *

 

            At the end of the day, she said her farewells to Ben, who was falling asleep on his father’s shoulder, Happy and Jenny, who thanked them both and wished them luck, and they headed back down in the elevator, leaning against the wall and letting out a contented sigh. They traded looks, locking eyes once, looking away, doing it again, a third time. Angie shuffled a little closer, hands in her pockets, looked up to see Steve standing above her watching her with an odd look in his eyes.

            “What?” she asked him, quiet, but her only answer was the tentative kiss he pressed on her, softly questioning. She just closed her eyes and reciprocated in kind, because hey, why not? He was a good-looking guy and she hadn’t had anyone in ages, and they trusted each other implicitly. If he wanted to kiss a little, she wouldn’t be the one to stop him.

            “You wanna do this?” she murmured, when he let her go, foreheads touching, eyelashes brushing together. “Cause I’ll do this. If you want-” clearly it was the permission he was looking for, because he drew her close like a man who was starving for some semblance of touch, some sliver of comfort; kissed her again, lips parting slowly for her tongue.

            The elevator interrupted them with a ding. He stepped away, a flush beginning on his cheeks and fanning out to his ears at the reminder of their current situation. Angie fixed her shirt, took his hand and led him towards the streets. “Subway ride home,” she told him, “then we can get this off the ground. You down?” He smiled, soft, private, a little quirky one she knew belonged to the kid from Brooklyn and not the national icon. God, she was going to feel so bad for despoiling him. Later. For now she was just going to enjoy the moment, and… yeah, the moment.

* * *

 

            Steve smiled a lot during sex, she found. He grinned apologetically when she huffed at him for the stupid zipper on his jacket, had about the same face as a kid with his hand in the cookie jar feeling her up, looked outlandishly proud whenever he did something right. She went slow, teaching him, letting the burn build until it saw him gasping on his back with her straddling his lap- and after, where they lay grinning at each other, snarking back and forth and poking on purpose. It happened again in the morning, Steve waking her up with soft kisses on the back of her neck and his insistent morning wood nudging her in the back. After the second round he rolled over and fell asleep again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; breathing deep and even and undisturbed by nightmares. Angie found her underthings, tracked down her notepad and pencil, sat crosslegged on her side of the bed and wrote out a count.

            _Nephews I have: 1_

_Times Steve has smiled in the 21 st century: 42 (and counting)_

_Years I’ve had to try and understand life: 30_

_How much closer I am to understanding it: 0_

_How okay I am with that: 100%_


End file.
